Golden Rain
by Megii of Mysteri OusStranger
Summary: A fic about one of the lesser highlighted characters from WW, Mila, the rich girl who became poor. Set two years after WW. It's easier to understand if you've played the game before. [MilaXOC] Rating may go up.


I've been playing Wind Waker a lot lately and accidentally came up with this. I have no idea where this is going, that will be decided on what you reviewers want to happen, so be sure to R&R! I also gave them a totally different calendar. There are five months per year, seventy-two days in a month, and four days in a week. There are also five other days that make up the "new week," which is like new year's day for us, except it's five days long.

_Summary-a fic about one of the lesser highlighted characters from WW, Mila, the rich girl who became poor. She just seemed so interesting and sweet I had to write about her. Set two years after WW. It's easier to understand if you've played the game before._

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Mila tapped her fingers on the counter and yawned, wrinkling the many freckles on her nose and cheeks. She shook her head slightly, trying to keep awake, and pushed the bit of sunflower colored hair that had come loose from her bun over her shoulder. She had been working the nightshift at the Calamari Inn on Littlefish Isle for almost two years now. The island resided on the outskirts on the Great Sea, only a few hours' sail north of her home island of Windfall. The last two years had certainly been the most interesting ones of her seventeen year-old life. If it hadn't been for Link, she didn't know where she'd be. Probably worse off, but she _would_ probably have better sleep.

During the day she worked for Zunari, back home on Windfall, usually daily; and three out of the four nights of the week she worked as a receptionist at the Calamari Inn. She had started out as a maid at first, but had eventually been promoted to receptionist as her social skills grew. A full night's sleep was hard to come by for her these days. Even though she was dirt poor now, she liked who she'd become. People like her for her and not for her money. In retrospect, being kidnapped by that bird was probably the best thing that could've happened to her. It was tiring, working all day and night though, but it kept bread on the table and she always had the weekend to look forward to.

Over the years, she and Maggie had become friends, regardless of what Maggie's father said about "meddling with street urchins." Her own father didn't mind, happy that she even had a friend, and Maggie had been one of the first. She wasn't entirely sure if Aryll counted anymore, they hadn't contacted one another in almost a year.

She looked down and fingered the lace on her cornflower blue dress. It had been a gift from Maggie for her birthday. She had protested, but Maggie insisted, saying that it brought out her eyes and would be sure to get boys' attention.

She smiled to herself. Was there anything Maggie didn't think about these days that didn't have to do with boys? If she had still been a commoner, she probably wouldn't have any suitors, in truth she wasn't the prettiest girl in the Great Sea, but being wealthy, she had plenty of them. Some of the suitors were at least twice her age! Mila was thankful she didn't have to deal with that.

She looked out the window and up at the moon. It was getting close to midnight, she couldn't think of anyone who'd bother to come in after midnight, especially this far out.

There was a soft whooshing noise and she turned round and picked up the note in the chute numbered 12. The chutes were used so that the guests on the upper floors could quickly communicate if they needed something; a lot like the way other hotels used bells.

It was Ms. Monchino, insisting that she needed more blankets because the Inn was anything but first class since there was a terrible draft in her room and she could hear whoever was in the room next to hers "for crying out loud." Mila snorted, surprised that she hadn't complained about the crickets being too noisy. Crumpling the piece of paper in her fist, she walked over to the maid who worked the night shift with her.

"Aylee," she said quietly, prodding the middle aged woman to wake her up, "Aylee, wake up."

The woman wearily opened her eyes, revealing a wise, emerald gaze. "Mmm hmm, what is it, hon?"

"Ms. Monchino, in room twelve, insists that she needs more blankets and some soft wax to plug her ears with."

"What's she need to plug her ears fo?"

"She says that her neighbor is being too loud."

"Neighbor? The only neighboring room she has is room eleven. Wait, in't that the room the honeymooning couple are staying in?" Mila made a face. Aylee chuckled. "Maybe I'll 'forget' to give 'er the wax."

"Don't you dare…"

Aylee held up her hands. "Don' worry your pretty little head; I won't, I won't." The brunette stood up and stretched. Several of her bones made popping noises. "Back in a few minutes if Ms. Monchino doesn't kill me first." She said, walking out of the room and up the stairs.

Mila shook her head and sat back down at the receptionist counter. She doubted that anyone else would be coming in tonight, so she took out a quill, ink, and a leaf of paper, deciding that she would write to Aryll.

_Dearest Aryll,_

_How are you? Well, I hope. When was the last time we wrote to one another? Almost an entire year, I believe!_

_I hope the gods have brought you good fortune recently. I'm doing all right, but working almost twenty-four hours a day does take its toll on me. Father is still under the illusion that he is too old to work, though I think it's because he still hasn't truly adjusted to our lifestyle after spending his whole life being wealthy. He's in denial, I suppose._

_Maggie has gone boy 'crazy.' Her father introduces her to new suitors almost everyday; it's all she ever talks about, though she still hasn't chosen a husband. I believe she's still in love with that moblin, Moe I believe his name was, though she hasn't heard from him in quite some time._

_I see your brother from time to time, how is he doing? He always seems very busy and I never get a chance to speak with him. How old is he now? Nineteen?_

_Working here at Littlefish Isle is very boring, but the local population managed to go over twenty recently. Most visitors we receive are either traveling or vacationing. Sometimes there are people who have gotten lost or shipwrecked. Oh, and I nearly forgot, I was recently promoted to receptionist! It has better pay, but I almost prefer being a maid. Sitting at a desk all night with very few customers, nothing to do, and not being allowed to sleep is extremely dull._

_By the way, isn't your birthday coming up soon? What would you like? Something pirate related I take. Well, I must go, it's nearing midnight and a newcomer just arrived. Write back as soon as you can!_

_Sincerely,_

_Mila_

Placing the stopper back in the ink bottle and setting down the quill, positioning it so that no ink dripped onto her fine calligraphy, Mila looked up to greet the new arrival. Her hand went to her mouth as she saw that he was sopping wet.

"Oh!"

"Um, sorry, but you wouldn't happen to have a towel on you by any chance?" He said through his dark red, almost black hair, smiling nervously.

"Oh, yes, of course!" She exclaimed, rushing to the cupboard and taking out the first towel her fingers touched. She hurried over to him and swept the beige cloth over his shoulders.

"T-thank you." He said between chattering teeth and began rubbing his arms furiously.

"Oh, here." Mila insisted; replacing his cold hands with her own warm ones. "What happened to you? What's your name? You're certainly not from around here, not with that tan, and you look like you just came out of a storm."

There was a crashing sound as something breaking above them on the second floor.

"What was that?" The young man asked, looking up. Mila had little doubt that it was Ms. Monchino.

"One of our more fussy guests, I believe. Don't worry. You still haven't answered my questions."

"I believe I must have done something to anger Lord Cyclos, though I have yet to discover what it is. The weather was quite calm then suddenly I was struck with a vicious storm and my boat was pulled apart. This island was in sight so I clung to a piece of the wreckage and swam here." He summarized in as few words as possible.

"How long ago wad this?" Mila asked, shocked.

The young man laughed lightly. She seemed to think that he had been floating for days. "Only an hour or two ago, milady. Please, allow me to introduce myself." He removed her hands and, keeping hold of one, bowed. "My name is Kaman." He said, brushing back his dark, chin length hair.

Mila's hear skipped a beat as she saw his face and she was suddenly very aware of a tingling sensation on her palms, where she had touched him.

His skin was a lovely, warm tan, enhanced by his kind, dark blue eyes and there was a small, intricate tattoo on his right cheek that made him seem extremely exotic. She remembered that Zunari had one of similar likeness on his wrist. They must have been from the same region.

"Mila." She responded as confidently as she could. Her cheeks grew hot as he kissed her hand. He was such a gentleman!

"Pleasure to meet you, Mila." He straightened and she sighed inwardly, taking notice of his excellent posture.

"No, please, the pleasure is mine." She insisted. He was, after all, a guest.

Kaman looked at her curiously. "With all due respect, milady, I must say, I am rather curious as to how a young woman, such as yourself, came to be so proper mannered."

Mila giggled a little. "Well, whether or not you believe it, I was once quite wealthy. However, an unfortunate incident caused my father and I to lose our entire family fortune."

Kaman frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Mila shook her head. "Don't be. Regardless of our loss, I believe that it may have been one of the best experiences to befall me. Tell me, where do you hail from, Kamam?"

The dark-red haired man smiled. "My home is actually far south of here, but I traveled north to visit relatives of mine. Now, or perhaps I should say I _was_, planning on visiting my uncle on my way back south. Perhaps you've heard of him, I hear he's a rather famous merchant in these parts. His name is Zunari."

"You're his nephew?" Mila said in surprise. "Yes, actually I do know him. I work for him during daylight hours on Windfall Island…"

Aylee strode into the room at that moment, breaking up their conversation. She threw her hands up hopelessly.

"Well, I don' know what to do! That woman is the most shriveled, black-hearted witch I ever met! She's disturbing everyone, they want her out and frankly I do too. Mila, do you think you could go up and take care o' things? You've got a tongue of silver and I just don't have the patience. If you like, I'll get this young man set up with a room in the meantime."

Mila nodded. "Very well," she turned to Kaman, "Please excuse me."

"Of course." She turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing, Mila."

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow, perhaps?"

Mila's face fell. "Oh, I can't. I'm going back to Windfall at sun-up. I'm sorry." There was another, louder crashing sound from upstairs. "Uh oh, I'd better hurry. I'll see you around, Kaman!"

Mila rushed up the stairs, her face changing into a mask of fury. Ms. Monchino had started yelling profoundly and there were more and more crashing sounds as the old woman broke the Inn's things. People were walking out of their rooms and into the hall sleepily, asking what all the racket was about.

Mila reached the old woman's door and kicked it open. The old woman stared at her, speechless for a moment, then began shouting and cursing with newly restored vigor.

"Ms. Monchino!" Mila screeched right back. The old woman paused and stared at the girl, awestruck. Mila smirked to herself, she often had that effect on people. "Ms. Monchino, what exactly is the problem? People are trying to sleep!"

The woman began ranting again; a seemingly endless stream of incoherent babble that had little meaning. Mila managed to catch one of the sentences and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The woman was actually complaining about the crickets!

"Ms. Monchino! If you do not calm down right now, you will be removed from the premises!" No such luck. Mila came forward, the woman had been warned, and picked up the woman's traveling bag. She dropped it on the bed, opened it, and began packing away all of Ms. Monchino's things.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you little runt? Get your grimly hands off my clothes…" the woman screamed, but Mila ignored her. She finished quickly and stormed out of the room, Ms. Monchino following her closely, grabbing at the bag.

"It's my way or the docks, lady!" Mila yelled, looking back, but the woman didn't seem to hear her. Mila walked down the stairs quickly, taking two steps at a time, and began yelling as they neared the exit.

"Ms. Monchino, you are the most vile, self-centered, black-hearted witch it has ever been my displeasure of laying eyes on!" They reached the bottom of the stairs. "You have no respect for anyone besides yourself or how your actions may affect others!" They passed the reception desk. "You are no longer welcome at the Calamari Inn! And you will not be getting your money back seeing as we will have to make repairs for all the damage you caused!" Mila opened the front door and threw the travel bag outside. Ms. Monchino dove after it. "And don't come back!" Mila yelled, slamming the door and quickly locking it. There was a scream of fury and the pounding of fists on the door; Mila ignored it and sat down at the desk, putting her letter in an envelope.

There was a crowd in the main entrance now and once they saw that the old woman was gone, they began applauding. A couple of people cheered. Mila couldn't help but blush, even more so when she saw Kaman among the group.

One man with shaggy blonde hair came forward and shook her hand. "Young lady, that was in-credible! Have you always been so good at handling things like this?"

Mila shrugged. "As far as I can remember."

"What's your name?"

"Mila, sir."

"Mila! Fabulous! Have you given any though as to being a politician in your future career?" He was still shaking her hand.

"Politician?"

"Yes, yes, a politician!" He handed her a slip of paper from his pocket. Mila scanned over it.

"Is the pay any good?"

"'Is the pay any…'" The man slapped his forehead. "The pay is great! And it's just the sort of thing you would excel in, I'm sure."

"Well, I'll have to talk to my father…"

"Great! Here's my mailing address." He said, grabbing one of the spare pieces of paper on the desk and the quill. "When your father approves, and I'm sure he will, send me a letter right away!" He finished and turned to the crowd. "Now, if everyone doesn't mind, I'm going to bed! I have a big day tomorrow and need to wake up refreshed!" His voice faded as he ascended the staircase and with a great many biddings goodnight, the crowd followed, until only Aylee and Kaman were left.

Aylee had a peculiar look on her face, probably wondering why Mila had gone so easy on the old woman and yet became the most popular person at the Inn in just a few minutes.

Kaman came forward and big Mila goodnight personally, kissing her hand. Mila blushed vigorously and stared after him as he went off to his room. Aylee, of course, noticed this and grinned mischievously.

"You blushin', Mila? Ah, I think somebody's got a serious crush. Got bit hard by the love bug, no doubt." She teased.

Mila smiled, but didn't respond, staring at the slip of paper crushed in her hand. It seemed as if things were finally looking up.


End file.
